


How Matt Peake Learned Not to Trust Random Texts From Strangers, But He Kinda Likes Them Anyways

by WoozleBucket



Series: Look Ma, No Hands! [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Adam's nuts, GTA-verse, James is Deapool, Muteness, Superpowers, hitman!Peake, who knew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9858371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoozleBucket/pseuds/WoozleBucket
Summary: After getting a text from an unknown number offering a job, Matt goes to meet the mysterious client(s) for a meeting over dinner. He was expecting the normal gang member or whatever. What he got was a migraine.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In which Matt Peake is an undead, mute hitman, Adam has another personality in his head, and James is pretty much Deapool.  
> \-------------------------  
> A/N: I found this on my computer a bit ago, edited it a little, and shipped it off here for no apparent reason. Also, remind me to never write in present tense ever again. It's the worst. So sorry if I accidentally end up in a different tense every once in a while. Also, I might do more with this eventually. But first, I should finish the GG fic I'm working on.

Matt looks at the two men across the table from him with wide eyes. One, a sad-looking sonuvabitch with a not-so-hidden gun sitting on the table in front of him, is looking at him purposefully with maybe a bit of admiration and confusion deeper in his eyes. He appears to be the leader of the two. The other was also wide-eyed, but his brilliant blue eyes were showing the energy bouncing around inside of him. He had a shit-eating smirk on his face and was twirling two knives and a spoon (Matt was fairly certain that there weren’t any spoons before the men sat down) around in one hand easily. 

“So, you’re the infamous Matt Peake, huh?” Sad-Eyes asks. 

“You’re a bit fuzzier than we expected,” the other adds. “Shorter, too.” Sad-eyes elbows him in the side, knocking the utensils out of his hand. 

“Bitch,” he grumbles.

“Dickhead,” the leader spits back.

Matt considers just getting up and leaving. He watches the two bicker like an old married couple and slowly starts sliding out of the booth. Sad-eyes nonchalantly raises his gun, pointed it at Matt, and flicks the safety off, still having a one-handed slapfight with Blue-eyes.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he states. Matt gulps again and slides all the way against the window.

“-and, furthermore, your ass so isn’t fitting in those fucking skinny jeans!” Blue-eyes says. Sad-eyes smoothly and suddenly turns the gun on his partner and fires. Blue-eyes collapses onto the table, face buried under a mountain of extremely salty fries. 

“Who the fuck even says ‘furthermore’ during an insult war, anyways?” Sad-eyes asks, shaking his head. Matt shrugs and looks between the front door and Sad-eyes’s still-cocked gun now being pointed back against him. 

“And now that he’s gone for a little bit,” Sad-eyes continues. “We can talk business.”

Mat makes the “go on” motion with his hand and Sad-eyes nods. 

“Well, we need a couple a guys dead, you see, and we hear you’re the perfect guy for the job. Ya know, ‘cause you’re dead and all.”

Matt subconsciously flinched. He really didn’t need a reminder of that. Sad-eyes quirked an eyebrow but didn’t mention anything. Matt pulled his notebook and pencil out of his hoodie pocket and wrote, _Who’re the guys?_

“Glad you asked, ‘cause we have the same question. All we know is that they showed up and kicked the shit out of me and my friend here and we want revenge.”

_So how am I supposed to know who to shoot?_ Matt asks.

“Dunno. It was his idea,” Sad-eyes shrugs, pointing his thumb in his dead friend’s direction.

_Brilliant plan. 10/10, would use again,_ Matt can’t help but write down. The other man barks out a laugh, and Matt sees the first smile out of him so far. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. But nooo, he just has to do it his way.”

Suddenly, Blue-eyes’s head pops up, greasy and salty and only slightly bloody, and he grabs the first utensil he grabs first and stabs Sad-eyes in the arm with it. Luckily, it's the spoon. The spoon clatters onto the table. 

“Hey, asshole!” Blue-eyes protested. “You’re the one who came up with the idea of inviting Fuzzy McFuzzball over there to help!”

Sad-eyes looks down at the spoon, up at Blue-eyes, over at Matt, down the barrel of his gun, and back to the spoon all in a moment of confusion. “Uh, what were we talking about?”

Matt looks at Blue-eyes questioningly, but the other man was quietly explaining what was going on. Sad-eyes looks just as confused as Matt feels. 

“Oh. Cool,” Sad-eyes said before turning back to Matt. “So, uh, you in?”

Matt shrugs. _Sure, why not? But you two are weird._

Blue-eyes laughs. “And this is coming from a guy who’s died, gone to heaven, and back. 

_And you two aren’t so normal yourself. Sad-eyes over there can’t remember the last forty-five minutes and you just died in your fries._

“ ‘Sad-eyes’? Oh, you mean Kovic?”

“What’d I do now?” Kovic whines, looking like he’s almost expecting Blue-eyes to go into a long tirade or something. Matt notices the difference between this Kovic and the calm, collected, cool one from not even fifteen minutes earlier.

“Nothin’,” Blue-eyes quickly says. “Fuzzy just calls you ‘Sad-eyes’ in his Little Purple Book.”

“Huh,” Kovic contemplates. While he was distracted, Matt took the opportunity to write in his notebook a question that has been on his mind the whole time.

_So, who are you guys, anyway?_

Blue-eyes answers. “I’m your worst nightmare, biatch. But you can call me James, whichever you prefer. And the confused idiot next to me is currently Adam Kovic. The one he was earlier was Pixel. Don’t recommend meeting Pixel again.”

“Wait, so Pixel was out?” Kovic suddenly asks. When James nods, the other man groans and knocks his head against the table. 

Matt’s eyes widens as he remembered the news reports that are always the first things to pop up on hotel televisions. The reports always talk about the criminal duo of Pixel and Volkor, two big-time thieves, murderers, and all around assholes. Shit.

_Pixel. Great. And I take it you’re Volkor, then?_ Matt asks. 

James smiles and grabs Kovic's un-stabbed arm tightly. “And he’s smart, too. Can we keep him, Adam, can we keep him?”

Adam, whose face was still mushed into the table, answers, “He already said yes, idiot. Now I wanna go home. Take me home, James.”

James rubs his hand on Adam’s back and says, “Yeah, come on, buddy.”

Matt feels awkward and waves a goodbye and James and Adam leave the booth. As he quickly pockets Adam’s gun, which was then lying on Adam’s empty plate, James turns around at the door and called, “We’ll be in touch, Peake!”

James then blows an exaggerated kiss in Matt’s direction and he can practically see Adam rolling his eyes. Matt rolls his eyes as well and pulls his hood over his head. In a moment, he is perfectly blended in with the shadows. Then he leaves, completely unaware of the dad-looking guy in the booth next to where the three were sitting putting a tape recorder in his jeans pocket and walking out the front door.


End file.
